From Ashes
by LouRose87
Summary: "Why did you come?" And she can't answer him because there isn't an answer. At least, not one that makes sense to her. (AU, S6, post RJ)


**Title: **From Ashes

**Summary**: "Why did you come?" She can't answer him because there isn't one. At least, not one that makes sense to her. ( AU, S6, post RJ)

**A/N:** Every song I listen to seems to have Jisbon relevance and this is just one of the many that have inspired me recently. This came out of the crazy AU idea that Jane flees to (insert-conveniently-unnamed-South-American-country-here) and he isn't on his own – yes, highly improbable and OOC but what can I say? The brain writes what it wants. Plus, I _adore_ reading fluff but I find myself writing more introspective pieces.

I liked writing this - not sure it makes much sense, so apologies in advance everyone.

Lyrics are from "Things We Lost in The Fire" by Bastille – neither this song, nor The Mentalist are owned by me. Sadly.

**I.**

"_Things we lost to the flame,_

_Things we will never see again,_

_All that we have amassed,_

_Sits before us, shattered into ash."_

The sand hurt her feet.

She hadn't known what to expect.

The sand hurt her feet and she pressed them down harder; tendrils of heat licked at her ankles and she waited for it to become unbearable - she had tested herself with pain after her childhood had fallen apart – desperate to see how much she could take - after the tears had dried, everything had still felt so goddamn empty.

The sand was hot, even now, in the fading hours of the day and she wondered how it had come to this.

The fire slowly began to die as darkness descended.

(the moon was the same everywhere you went and she wanted to cry)

When he sat next to her, there were so many things she couldn't say. "You okay?" His voice was all concern and worry. (_This is because of you, _she silently screamed and her words went unsaid)

He took a place next to her on the sand dune (a safe distance - _always_) and they stared into the embers – the heavy weight of silence pressed down on them.

"Why did you come with me?" His voice was dark and she didn't know if this is who he was all along.

(A forged passport, a ticket bought in cash, a midnight escape)

_You asked_.

"I don't know." She finally turns to look at him - he stares intently at the few remaining flames, a hand runs through his unruly hair. (She wants to tell him so much but she doesn't know where to start or where it will end) "I just did."

He finally turns his gaze to her – there is a knot in her throat from where everything hurts so much. His eyes burn a hole into her soul and he knows everything about her. "I'm sorry." She looks into his eyes as he speaks (they are full of depth and she wants to feel it all)

"For what?" She doesn't know why she is asking. She knows the answer. (_Everything._)

There's a sigh that leaves his lips and it sounds like he might laugh. "Where do I start?" His voice is hushed and he still doesn't look away from her and she feels like she is drowning in him.

There's silence again and she welcomes it. Her head is full of thoughts (regrets, hopes, _desires_) and she can't think – her brain is clouded from unnamed alcohol sipped, sat next to him wordlessly at the beach hut bar and all she wants is for it to be like it was _before. _

But she would follow him anywhere.

So she finds herself next to him, in a village whose name she cannot pronounce, watching the remains of the life she knew disappear.

**II.**

"_I was the match and you were the rock  
Maybe we started this fire  
We sat apart and watched  
All we had burned on the pyre"_

She sleeps uncomfortably in their shared bed – the thin mattress does not disguise the wooden slats underneath and she lies awake, staring up at the ceiling.

There's no space for them so sleep anywhere else so, on the first night – the first of so many - her body is curled as close to the edge as possible (far away from him and everything he's done) He doesn't sleep either – she can tell - and she's quietly pleased.

The second night, after a day spent avoiding him completely, she rolls onto her back and watches the moonlight cast shadows. "Why did you ask me here?" She pauses – the air is thick with tension and she wants to rip it apart, to break everything down like he's broken her. "Why did you ask me to come with you?"

He doesn't reply immediately (he never would – he's not that person) and she knows he is considering his words cautiously – their pretence is a hard thing to end. "Because I don't have a life without you." He says finally and the words cut at her soul –she wants to show him he has value – he is worth something (_everything_) to her. There is another pause, laden with meaning – he is not careless and everything is said for a reason. "Because things don't matter to me if you aren't there."

She has to force herself to breathe.

She can see his outline next to her from the corner of her eye, he stares at the same ceiling as her but they are so many miles apart – and all she wants is to touch him, to feel his skin beneath her own.

It's too hot – the heat threatens to suffocate her – and she is burning and confused and nothing makes sense because she has left _everything_.

"I left." She says; it is a statement of fact that neither of them needed to be said. "I left for you." And soon the words come tumbling out of her and she can't stop them and before she knows it, she's letting her heart run. "I left because of you. Because you asked. Because I've been in love with you for longer than I remember." After she says it, it doesn't have the same edge of fear and repression – it's the first time she has ever said it aloud and once the words are out, a heaviness leaves her. She feels strangely free (as free as she can in a foreign country with no extradition treaty and in the company of a man who has taken someone's life) and she could cry but she won't because irrespective of time and place, she is still Lisbon.

She feels him turn to face her, the bed creaks slightly and there is a sheen of sweat that lingers over him – his torso is bare and still she looks at the ceiling. He props himself up to face her on an arm that she has spent too long wishing was around her.

"I know." He says as it as though her feelings were common knowledge, a bare fact that is indisputable and not private, desperate, repressed thoughts that she had held for so long. (He is too close to her – she doesn't know when he moved – she can feel heat radiating from him) There is another pause. He looks at her – his eyes are dark and full and he is dangerous right now and she doesn't remember wanting him more. His hand reaches to her cheek, touches her reverently and she wonders when she became this to him. "You know I'm in love with you too, don't you?" His tone insinuates obviousness of his feeling towards her, as if she would have to be blind to think otherwise.

Her breath hitches in her throat as his hand continues to gently touch her, caresses her face, her neck, her sides. His touch is there yet not– as though he is afraid she might break (she wants to tell him that she already has – it's why she's here, with him and not back in Sacramento trying to build a life out of the ruins he created)

"I don't know anything any more." She manages to whisper her response as his lips find her collar bone, and he presses delicately against her skin. It feels like exquisite torture and she never wants him to stop.

But he does. As she finishes her words, he pulls away, ever so slightly – there is something akin to shock in his eyes. "You have to know how much I love you." His voice is low and husky and she can feel his breath as he speaks against her skin like a promise. "I need you to. You're the only thing keeping me to the earth." His hands skim her waist, her thighs, leaving a wake of fire and he is getting so close to the point of no return. "I love you more than you can imagine." The words pierce her heart like a dart – his face is buried in her neck, kissing her everywhere like she might disappear.

She has imagined this so many times, in so many ways – declarations of love and devotion (it embarrasses her how much she has thought of him on lonely nights in her bed, too much wine seeping through her veins, wishing things were different) and it was never like _this_. She should have known that it would never be simple or easy – she should have known that his words would be deep and that they would touch every corner of her soul – the intensity of his love feels like a physical presence, a tangible form, that she can reach it and hold to her like a life raft.

When she kisses him back (fully, strongly – she gives it everything she has because she possesses no words to say what she needs to) she feels like she is finally living.

**III.**

"_(You said) we were born with nothing,  
And we sure as hell have nothing now,_

_Do you understand that we will never be the same again,  
The future's in our hands and we will never be the same again"_

"Open your eyes." His voice is a low, gruff whisper. He wants to see the look on her face as they move together, his body inside of hers for the first time. When she looks at him, he sees tears and he wants to tell her not to cry (that this is all he's wanted, that he'd started falling in love with her from that very first day, that all he can think of is her) Her eyes are so soulful - they tell him so much when she says so little – and he feels like he's under the enchantment of her, that she could do anything and he'd love her regardless. A smirk, a laugh, a kiss - the power she has over him is overwhelming.

Their gaze doesn't break – there is a spell between them and he can't look away – this means too much (everything) and he has hurt her so much but she is still here.

They end in a tangle of limbs under bed sheets and her head resting on his chest (above his heart – she'd captured it so long ago and it had been hers without either of them realising it) He can't stop his thoughts – he is no good for her - he's made her do _this_, give up safety and a normal life for the tortured soul of a damaged, wanted man. And then her thumb draws lazy patterns on the palm of his hand and she moves in closer to him, curving her body into his own and he can't think of anything else but that he finally has her.

"I have no idea what to do." He says suddenly - his voice sounds out of place in the quiet, hazy air of the room. She rests her chin on his chest, looking up at him with eyes that could slay him with one look. Her hair is messed and perfect and she looks happy. There's a feeling of something in him (a feeling that he thought he'd never have again) knowing that he has made her happy – for once, he hasn't caused her pain or grief or all the other things he is so desperately ashamed of.

A thoughtful expression appears on her face; it stays for a moment before a sigh leaves her lips and god, how he loved kissing those lips. "Me neither." Her eyes meet his and he doesn't see regret (how did he get so lucky?) "I've not really got anything left. Not now." Her words are a statement, a fact and he is uncomfortable with everything he has taken from her – a life, a future. She moves to lie on her side and she nuzzles into his neck, her hand reaching for his and entwining their fingers.

"You have me." He says simply, out of nowhere and he wishes he hadn't. He is a poor replacement for what she has left behind.

Her voice is whispery as she replies. "All I need."

He should have a plan, he knows he should (he always does) but maybe this time, it's not just _his_ plan but _theirs_. He's made her a fugitive like him (it was never supposed to be like this but it is and he can't help but want her with him) and he is going to give her everything he can. "Thank you." He needs to say it, needs to tell her that he knows in some way what she's given up – and for him, for _them_. "And I'm sorry. This isn't exactly how I'd planned to finally be with you."

"Not exactly how I'd planned it either." There's a smirk in her voice. "But we're here so I guess this is how it is." She rolls onto her side, props herself up on her arm so she can look at him – her fingers run through his hair and he doesn't want her to ever stop. "So how much do you really want me here?" Her hand runs down his torso, teasing and torturing him – he covers her body with his own, kisses her deeply, gives her a promise of everything he has.

"Let me show you."

And he does.

And they are like a phoenix, rising from the ashes.

**FIN**.


End file.
